simple twist of fate
by jayadamslove
Summary: He saved her one night in 1942, never knowing what would come of it. All my stories start out slow, but will improve with time.


My first Basterds fanfic. I hope you enjoy, bear with me!

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She had never enjoyed having to dress the way she did. She never enjoyed where she lived. She never enjoyed having to lie about everything. She never enjoyed her occupation.

But, the clothes she was required to wear made her look good, and she could not change where she was located. Also she was a gifted liar, and her face made working a breeze.

Although, being a Jew in Nazi-occupied France, she always lived in fear. It didn't help she looked the part, with her dark eyes and thick brown hair. Her body swung when she walked, for she was well endowed in her rear area. Her round face and pink lips could make any man crazy, and did on several occasions, but there was another pitfall about her, besides where she resided.

Her job consisted of dancing in risqué articles of clothing, and she was never an actual human to men, but a show. Several times, when she had no money at all, she took it upon herself to have sexual intercourse with some of her customers; the men she did this with were never German, she made sure of that. She was given away to a French family who was very against the war as a child, and there were no records of her being born to her true family. When she had turned sixteen, she decided to help out, and make her own money, eventually moving out of their house.

She was now twenty, and working for a friend of her foster family.

On this particular night in 1942, she was working as always. Her eyes roved over the faces in the crowd, all wearing hungry expressions. Her gaze then fell upon two men, standing side-by-side in the back.

One had curly hair, and a slightly pudgy face. The other man was broad-shouldered, with thick dark hair, and eyes that appeared black from where she was. Something entranced her about him, but she flipped her hair, regaining focus.

--

Meanwhile, at the back of the room, the dark-eyed man was thinking of how long it had been since he had seen a woman like that. She had the curves of an hourglass, which made his head spin. He could practically hear Hirschberg's thoughts.

Growing up in Boston, he had been with too many women to count. He could barely remember some, and had never truly cared about any. The brown haired girl on stage was much more beautiful than them, but her eyes were void of emotion. She was going through the motions, obviously despising every moment. Something about her forced him to wonder, but he shoved the thoughts from his mind.

Tonight, they had ventured out to this town, which was off the beaten path. Originally, the two had been sent to retrieve liquor, but at an hour this late, the only place that was open was where they had ended up. They only lingered because the girl had caught their attention, and they couldn't look away. She was obviously Jewish, both of them could tell.

Just then, the girl exited the stage, causing a ruffle to go through the crowd. Underneath the large trench coat he had donned, the man ran his fingers over one of the many names carved into his favorite bat.

--

Backstage, she slipped into a thin, floor length, white dress, placing a long jacket over. She then pulled her calf-high boots on, buttoned her coat, and entered the actual bar section. It was now four in the morning, and she desired a drink, as she did after every show. She always wanted to cleanse herself, and nothing seemed to work better than a glass of whiskey. Striding behind the counter, she turned to Orville, and nodded, letting him know to take it out of her paycheck.

"Non, le miel, ne prenez-le gratuitement," Orville told her, trying to let her have the drink for free.

"Jamais, je ne vous dois me vie, Orville. Faites l'inquietude non baisante avec cela," she smiled. She did know that she owed him her life, and could not take on any more debt.

She poured the amber liquid into the glass, ending the conversation. While she had been doing this, a couple of men had gathered around the bar, asking for her to prepare them drinks. Graciously, she told them that the bar was closing, and asked them to leave. The two men she had seen earlier were watching her, and slowly walked out.

"Partez devant et le conge tot, l'enfant. Recevez un peu de reste," Orville offered, allowing her to depart from the bar early, for he wanted her to get some rest.

"Vous etes surs que vous n'aves pas besoin d'aide?" She questioned, wondering if the elderly man needed any help.

"Evidemment non. J'insiste," he insisted.

"Merci tellement. Malade voir-vous demain. Bonne nuit," she replied, wishing him a good night and draining her glass. She then proceeded to walk out the front door, drawing her coat more tightly around herself. The wind was picking up, and bitingly cold upon her brown cheeks. Her hair flew around her face, and she could hear nothing but the sound of her boots clicking on the cobblestone.

Approaching one of the many alleyways on her walk home, two figures loomed out of the darkness, blocking her path. Her eyes widened, but she did not stop. Attempting to pass them, one of the men flung out his arm. On it, was the swastika symbol, and her heart skipped a beat. She looked up at the two men, who were both dressed in Nazi uniforms.

"Qu'est-ce que c'est?" she asked, trying to sound polite while questioning them what they wanted.

"Ah, francais. Vous etes tout a fait beaux," the man slurred, taunting her by saying she was beautiful. When she didn't reply, he continued,

"Nous avons entendu de vos services et etant des soldats honorablement allemands, exigez-les." When he told her that he had heard of her services, and that they were honorable German soldiers, her blood boiled. She had never been one to keep her temper, and before she knew it, she was hissing,

"Je ne jamais en baisant vous permettre la plaisir, le batard." The man did not take kindly to her calling him a bastard, and clasped her tightly around the waist. The other held her hands behind her back with one of his hands, and shoved a dirty cloth into her mouth, muffling her screams. They then slowly dragged her into the alley, pinning her to the ground. Reaching into another pocket, the second man pulled out a rope, and bound her hands together, along with her feet, to where she could not escape. Both the men then stood, breathless. The first man, with a smirk on his face, ordered the other man to keep watch on the edge of the alley, and handed him the only gun they had. After the watchman returned to the cuff of the alley, the first's menacing eyes turned to the girl.

--

The two men were heading back to camp, when they saw the girl at the bar captured by the Germans. They could hear one of the men say something in German, but couldn't understand it.

"What the fuck…?" the broad-shouldered one exclaimed. "Those fucking asses can't do that to a Jewish girl, aw, no, man, they got another thing fuckin' comin'."

"What are we gonna do about it, though?"

"I want the one in the middle of the alley," he replied, tugging his trench back so that Hirschberg could see his famous bat.

"Alright, I guess I got the other one then."

"We'll fuckin' take it from there. Two Nazi shits have nothin' on us."

The two then quickly went to the alley, and peered in. The one on guard grinned slightly, as though proud others could see what he had done. Hirschberg forced a smile onto place, moving slightly closer. Before the Nazi could register what was happening, he had whipped out a gun, and pushed a bullet through the man's head with a bang. Blood splattered against one of the walls, and the second man ran into the dark alley.

--

Her eyes had started watering. She had always known a fate like this would come to her, being such a whore. She was crying because this was a man who supported the movement that murdered her true family, and was about to rape and kill her.

"Oh, le cheri, ne crier pas. Vous l'apprecierez, vous baisant la pituite, Je savais que vocus etiez une fille juive sale le deuxieme je vous ai vus. Vous n'avez aucun sang-froid, vous la salope." He was telling her not to cry, that she would enjoy this, and she was slime. He said he knew she was a Jewish girl the second he saw her, because she had no poise, the slut.

Through her tears, her eyes burned with anger, and she wished more than anything that this dirty towel was not down her throat, so she could spit. He ripped apart the buttons on her jacket, and tore the flimsy straps of her dress. The dress slipped downward, revealing her chest. He immediately threw himself upon her, but then, several things happened at once.

There was a loud gunshot, and both of them froze, staring ahead. He sat up straight, releasing her, and gazed puzzled, towards the source of the noise. Then, the figure of a man came sprinting down the alley, waving a bat. He reached the German, and swung the bat directly into the Nazi's head. The German's body crumpled, and the other man continued beating him, with flesh and blood flying everywhere. His eyes were blazing, and she was getting drenched in blood. Finally, after she had sat in shock for what seemed like an eternity, the German's body went limp, and it no longer looked like a human's body. She stared in disgust and relief, unsure of how to react.  
When he let the bat hang loosely from his hand, she decided it was safe to look into his face. He, too, was covered in blood, but his dark eyes were recognizable. This was the man she had seen in the bar.

He admired her, taking in her appearance. Her perfectly white dress was stained red, and her entire torso was revealed. Her hair had chunks of brain in it, and her mouth had a rag stuffed inside. He flicked a piece of Nazi off of the bat, and squatted down to where she was tied. Somehow, he still thought she was stunning. He untied her hands and feet gently, taking precaution not to stare at her exposed body. He then removed the towel from her mouth, and she immediately began gagging. He noticed her coat had been ripped, and removed his own, handing it to her.

Still sitting on the ground, she hurriedly took his jacket, flinging it onto her and covering herself. He wiped some of the dirt, grime, and blood off of her face.

"Merci, merci. Si vous ne seriez pas venus…" she started to say, but at his confused look, stopped.

"Allemand?" she asked, thinking he could speak German. Still, he wore the same look.

"Anglais?" she tried, hoping for English, being the only other language she could speak. He nodded furiously, whispering,

"Yeah, yeah, English, that's the one."

"Thank you, thank you, so much. If you wouldn't have been there… well, thank you," she concluded lamely.

"What's your name?"

"Colette, yours?"

He rose to his feet, and offered his hand. "I'm Sgt. Donny Donowitz."

"Sergeant?" she questioned, standing with him, and readjusting his coat.

"Come on, we have to get you out of here. Quick," he growled, taking her hand roughly, and yanking her back out onto the cobblestone. "This is Gerold Hirschberg. We're gonna be taking you back to base for the night. Luckily, it's not that far away, but we can't be followed."

"What? We're taking the fucking girl back?" Hirschberg cried incredulously.

"It's all I can think of, dammit. If we don't fucking take her with us, she'll get attacked again, or some fuckin' shit'll go down. We'll explain to Aldo, he'll know what to do."

"We don't even know if she's a god damned Jew!"

"I fucking am!" Colette spoke up, ruffled that they would speak of her as though she was a Nazi. The man named Hirschberg stared at her, and his face softened a little. They had been walking at such a speed that they were nearly out of the little town. She looked ahead at Donny, who glanced back at her, trying not to think about how much he liked the way she looked in his huge coat.

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Review, please!


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